Calling All Destroyers
by LynstHolin
Summary: MARAUDERS It's a Saturday in seventh year, and the Marauders are out for some fun. But James is starting to find that a good time isn't as good if Lily isn't with him.


Warnings: Alcohol use, suggestiveness.

...

Sirus was strutting down the hall in an Iggy Pop tee, big boots, and leather trousers, holding a motorcycle jacket over one shoulder. James had his jacket already on. Frank Longbottom trotted to catch up with them. "Black, you do realize that you're not actually a rock star, right? You're just another seventh year tosser like the rest of us, albeit one with exceptionally good hair."

"I'm going for a ride. I must wear the proper gear. Besides, the birds like it." Just as Sirius said that, Willow Diggory, who was passing them in the other direction, gave him a thorough appraisal. Sirius looked over his shoulder and caught her checking out his rear end. "You see?"

"I can't believe you brought that machine to Hogwarts," Frank said.

"It's not at Hogwarts, per se. Sirius managed to convince sweet, sweet Rosmerta to rent him a shed," James said.

"I don't think I want to know the details. So you two are taking it out in daylight? The Ministry is going to get you for sure. Have fun in Azkaban." Frank waved cheerily as he turned toward the library.

"They'll never take me alive!" Sirius cried after him.

"My, that is quite the get-up, Mr. Black. Have you and Mr. Potter plans?" Minerva McGonagall was right in front of them, looking less than impressed.

James knew this trap. If one said yes, one would have to explain the plans at length. If one said no, one was press-ganged into some sort of project. McGonagall had an excellent nose for mischief and prevarication. "It's Saturday! Of course we have plans! We have dates waiting for us at the Three Broomsticks."

"And what are the names of the two lucky girls?"

James shifted awkwardly and rubbed his head, squishing his face up. "Ah, they're older. You know, like thirty or something. _Old_."

"Oh." It came out a bit more faintly than usual for McGonagall.

"I mean, they buy us drinks and dinner and pay for the room and-"

"That's quite enough. Enjoy your... dates." She turned away, distracted by a cluster of first years squabbling over a chocolate frog card.

Sirius slapped James on the back."Good job, though for a second there, I thought you might have to offer her our services to make her leave us alone."

"I don't know why she won't just leave us alone. It'sSaturday, and we're bloody adults."

"At least, that's what wizard law says."

Just as they turned toward the Entrance Hall, McGonagall called out, "Watch out for flying motorbikes, boys."

James' first impulse was to look at Sirius, which would have only confirmed the professor's hunch, but he had learned far too many of McGonagall's tricks over the years. He looked straight ahead, moving his eyes just enough to confirm that Sirius hadn't betrayed them, either. They walked out the doors of Hogwarts, joining the line of other students making their way to the village. "I hate having to walk all the way to Hogsmeade. Hiking isn't very rock and roll," Sirius complained.

Soon enough, they came to the Three Broomsticks. They ducked behind the pub and into the lean-to that housed the flying motorbike. Their headgear, genuine World War Two leather helmets with goggles, hung from the handlebars. James stopped short, pointing to a box that stuck out from the bike's frame. "What is _that_?"

"An eight-track tape player."

"Why is it stuck to the bike?"

"So we can make toast. Why do you think? _Tunes_, man. Tunes."

"But an _eight-track_ player? Why not a nice new cassette player?"

"I just have eight-tracks."

"_Buy cassettes_."

Sirius slung a leg over the bike. "That's just what the Man wants us to do. Spend our hard-earned bread on things we already own."

"Hard-earned? Your family got all its money looting goblin treasure."

"_Allegedly_." Sirius pulled a helmet on and tossed the other to James. "Get in the side-car."

James had to fold himself up some to do so. His limbs were a bit too long to fit comfortably. "Eight-tracks are awful. You're in the middle of your favorite song, really getting into it, and KA-CHUNK, KA-CHUNK, it changes tracks and puts you right out of it. It's worse if you're, you know, with a girl. Completely ruins the mood. How'd you mount that thing, anyway? It looks like the bike has a wart." James carefully adjusted the goggles over his glasses and buckled his helmet's chin-strap.

"Sticking charm, of course." Sirius whacked the eight-track player with his wand and a T-Rex song blared. "Oh, perfect!" he shouted as he revved the bike. "Ready, James?"

"Let's go!"

They zoomed out of the shed and rose into the air almost immediately. James could hear shouts as they did an ever-rising loop above the village. "I've made some improvements," Sirius shouted. "Let's see how fast she goes now!"

Very, very fast, in fact. Fast enough that James could feel the skin of his face being pulled back. The music grew louder, Sirius singing along at the top of his lungs: "Calling all destroyers! Calling all destroyers!" The song ended, and Sirius whacked the player with his wand, not caring that the bike turned almost completely sideways, and the song began again. At least Sirius had solved one of the worst drawbacks of eight-track tapes: the fact that they couldn't be rewound or fast-forwarded.

The bike circled the mountains. James threw his arms in the air, loving the way the wind wanted to tear him from his seat. His heart raced, and he could feel himself grinning like a loon. Sirius coaxed a bit more speed from the bike, and James could have sworn that he could feel his cheeks flapping. A part of him comprehended that any little error could lead to death for them both, but the rest of him was breathless, his heart pounding, feeling so alive as he watched the mountainsides blur past. The only thing that could compare to this was running through a moonlit forest in his stag form, especially on a snowy night. Well, he was sure that making love to Lily Evans would be as exciting, but he hadn't gotten there yet; not for lack of trying.

The song started again. "Walking wild at midnight, breathing like a panther, holding hands with my love," Sirius sang. He turned the bike sharply to follow the curves of the mountain and it happened. It only there for an instant: a flash of red, white and blue stripes, and a terrified face with mouth stretched wide just inches from the bike's front tire. James might have thought he had imagined the hang-glider if Sirius hadn't started howling with laughter. The bike shuddered, dropping down toward the mountain-side.

"Sirius!" James screamed. The other boy was still laughing too hard, his hands shaking with it. The bike was plummeting. Oh, sweet Morgana, he was going to die before he got to get Lily between the sheets.

At what seemed like the very last second possible, Sirius stopped the bike's death plunge. Still spastic with mirth, he landed it between some trees. "Did you see his face? I bet he needs to change his pants now! Serves him right, the daft Muggle!"

"Bloody hell, Sirius!" But James was helpless with laughter, himself. Every time he thought he was done, the man's face would flash through his mind and the hysteria would start again. His stomach muscles started to hurt, and he couldn't catch his breath. "I have to stop," he moaned.

"James, look." Sirius did an amazingly accurate imitation of the hang-gliding man's face.

James flicked a stinging hex at him, but started half-laughing, half-wheezing again. "You're a bastard."

"I know. But you love me, anyway." Sirius looked at the sky. "The sun's getting low. It's almost time to meet Peter and Remus." They were doing a pub-crawl in Dufftown. Sirius preferred witches for girlfriends, but when he was single and just wanted a bit of fun, he liked Muggle girls. They rode the flying motorbike to the outskirts of town and hoofed the rest of the way, Sirius complaining all the while; if he had things his way, he would ride his bike every second that he was out of bed.

James and Sirius found Peter and Remus just outside of the pub they were going to start their evening in. "Have you been inside to do recon?" Sirius asked Peter.

The short, chubby boy nodded eagerly. "The ratio of foxes to mingers is in our favor."

Sirius rubbed his hands together. "Good. Let's go, men."

James knew they wouldn't be staying long as soon as the jukebox started playing a Donna Summer song. Disco was anathema to the Marauders. "Isn't there a pub with rock in the jukebox?" he asked disdainfully.

"There's one down the street that way," a pouty-lipped honey-blonde girl said, hooking her thumb toward the south. "My friends and I are headed there." Her friends were all young and fine and dressed in tight jeans and tube tops. Of course, the boys followed. The pub had Zeppelin on the jukebox and a lively crowd. "They've got every kind of whiskey that's made around here," the honey-blonde girl said.

Remus waved a hand dismissively. "I want beer. Trust me, none of the whiskey here is up to my standards."

"You're in the middle of Dufftown, saying Dufftown whiskey isn't good enough? You're a cheeky one, aren't you?" The blonde moved closer to Remus. "What's the scar on your cheek from?"

"A werewolf."

The girl laughed and moved even closer, reaching out to push his floppy brown hair away from his forehead. Remus was the first of the four to score and he hadn't even been trying.

"So, what do you think, James? Which one do you fancy?" Sirius was leaning back on the bar on his elbows, scanning the local talent.

James shrugged. "None of them are my type."

"Let me guess. Ginger, green eyes." Sirius waded into the crowd, reappearing a few minutes later with a green-eyed ginger. The girl looked at James and smiled, obviously liking what she saw. But the eyes were jade, not emerald, and the hair was distinctly auburn, not the right shade at all.

"Now, Sirius, you know I'm engaged," James chided, hiding a grin behind his hand when his friend rolled his eyes.

The girl rounded on Sirius. "I thought you said you had a _single _friend for me."

"Uh, yeah, I do. Peter, meet Monica."

Monica was a tall drink of water and she was wearing heels, putting her at the perfect height to see the thinning of his hair at the crown. Peter was at the perfect height to ogle her chest, and he did, quite blatantly. "Hello, Monica. Nice... shirt."

"I.. ah, my friends are calling." Monica turned on her heel and vanished so quickly, it was like she had Apparated.

Peter gulped down some Muggle whiskey, then slammed the shot glass on the bar hard enough to dent the wood. "She wasn't that great looking, anyway."

That wasn't even close to true. She had the sort of face that one would see on a cameo, and she was fashionably lean. Though James was more attracted to unfashionable curviness these days. Lily was always complaining about how she looked in jeans, but, as far as James was concerned, it was sheer perfection. The way she wiggled when she walked away was downright poetic. He especially like her jeans with the Rolling Stones lips-and-tongue iron-on decal right on the roundest place on her-

"You have that stupid look on your face again," Sirius said. "You're at a pub filled with good-looking girls and all you're doing is mooning over Lily Evans. Pathetic." He punched James on the arm.

"Evans isn't that great," Peter slurred. "She could stand to lose a few pounds."

James bit back a retort. Peter had a tendency to get nasty when he drank, and tonight he was tossing back shots at an alarming rate. "Maybe you should slow down a bit, Wormy."

"Don't tell me what to do," Peter snarled.

James shrugged. "Fine. You want to be throwing up all night, that's your choice"

"I want to leave," Peter said as he stared down at his row of empty glasses. The dark look in his eyes made James' skin prickle. _It's just the whiskey, _he told himself. "The girls here are a bunch of bitches who think they're too good to talk to me."

"The girl by the pinball machine has been smiling at you."

"She's fat. I want someone decent-looking."

James could have pointed out that the girl in question, who was no beauty but had an appealing roundness to her, was actually slimmer than Peter, but he knew where that would lead. Instead, he watched Sirius putting the moves on a girl who was a dead ringer for Farrah Fawcett. The girl was giving Sirius a cool look, but James could tell by the way she played with her perfect waves of ash-blonde hair that she was interested. Peter was watching the interplay of the one-night-stand-to-be, too, with a sulky look on his face. James was starting to wish that he had stayed at Hogwarts. He could be cozying up to Lily right now, seeing if she was ready to go further than kissing.

Peter wobbled a bit, then put a hand over his mouth. "Get him out of here before he starts spewing," the man behind the bar ordered. James put his arm around Peter's waist and hustled him out, getting him out on the street just as he started puking on his shoes.

"I'm sorry. I love you, Prongs."

Ah, yes, the hugging and crying phase of intoxication. James had never been there, himself, but it was a regular destination for Peter. "Stay here," he ordered. Back in the pub, Sirius was busy kissing the ash-blonde girl. "Pete needs to get back," James told him. Sirius gave the tiniest of nods, then went back to the snogging.

James Apparated them as close to Hogwarts as he could. Filch was on the prowl, as usual, but James had the invisibility cloak with him, and the two of them reached their dorm without getting caught. It was awfully close, though; Peter had started heaving again and James had needed to whip his cloak out of the way to keep it from getting thrown up on. Peter crawled onto his bed, and James took his shoes off, tucking pillows around him so that he wouldn't roll over onto his back. Soon Peter was snoring.

"You're such a good daddy."

"Lily, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

She was silhouetted in the doorway, wearing a pink babydoll nightie. "Sorry. But, really, you're so good to him. Better than he deserves, really."

James suppressed a flare of anger. "He's my friend, Lily."

"You don't see him clearly. When he drinks, he says nasty things to girls."

"That's just the whiskey talking."

"Is it? Or is he just saying what he actually thinks?"

"I don't want to fight, Lily."

"Who's fighting? I'm just saying what I think. Remus and Sirius are tolerable, but _him_." Lily shook her head.

"If you want me, you have to put up with my friends. We're a package deal."

A soft sigh. "I know." She came into the room and pulled down the red and gold quilt on James' bed. She climbed beneath it and looked up at him. "Enough of that, I guess. Kiss me?"

"Yeah, James, go to bed and kiss her and shut the hell up," Frank Longbottom said from behind the velvet that draped around his bed. "The word 'dormitory' comes from the Latin word _dormīre_, which means _to sleep_. I want _dormīre__._"

In that little nightgown, James could forgive Lily anything. He hurriedly shucked everything but his underpants, pulled the curtain shut around them, and stretched out next to her. They kissed lazily for a while, and then her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. Her hand was curled against his chest, one of her legs was thrown over him, and her lilac-scented hair tickled his nose. Having a barely-dressed Lily so close left him in a state that made falling asleep all but impossible, but James didn't move. He didn't want to wake her up.

He must have dropped off eventually, because he was woken up by someone whistling 'Calling All Destroyers'. His bed curtains were yanked back and sunlight made him squint. Sirius, upon seeing Lily, grinned and gave James a thumbs up. "McGonagall caught me and Remus sneaking back in, and she's 'volunteered' all four of us to go to chapel. So get up, we've got five minutes."

James groaned as he groped around for his glasses. "I left you the map and you still get caught? Why should I be punished because you're an idiot?" Sirius was too busy trying to get Peter out of bed to answer. Lily stirred, blinking up at him sleepily, and James wished mightily that he could just stay with her. "Sorry, babe." Lily didn't speak. She just watched him get dressed with a cat-like smile on her face.

Mandatory chapel attendance was supposed to put the fear of God in the Marauders, James supposed, but Sirius spent the whole time pulling at his split ends, while Remus fought to stay awake. Peter was as pale as a person could be, clutching his head and moaning softly every time the pipe organ started playing another hymn.

James' mind was anywhere but on the service. He was short on sleep, but he felt fine. He would never say that Lily belonged to him- she was far too independent for that- but she was more his than anyone else's. He noticed McGonagall watching them and started singing 'Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending' with enough enthusiasm for the four of them. He knew the hymn by heart from his childhood church attendance. The lyrics about crucifixion and scars didn't register with him at all, though; they were just words. James was thinking about sensations, not words. The wind in his teeth, the smoky taste of whiskey, the springy feel of Lily's hair in his hands, the lovely warmth of a body next to his all night long. McGonagall gave him a wry smile, giving him the odd feeling that she knew what was on his mind.

The service ended. "What are we going to do with the rest of the day?" Sirius asked.

"No whiskey," Peter whined.

"You three do what you want," James said over his shoulder as he walked out of the chapel. He wanted to see if Lily was still in his bed.


End file.
